Rolling in the Grave
by ForbiddenDreams13
Summary: A man's mutilated body is discovered in London and a corpse from Undertaker's shop goes missing. Surley this isn't tied to the doctor that just arrived in Chelmsford? As Ciel looks for clues, he learns that there is indeed a fate worse than death.
1. Chapter 1

**Greetings to all readers out there! Welcome to my first Kuroshitsuji fic!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji, nor do I claim rights to H.P. Lovecraft's **_**Herbert West-Reanimator**_

* * *

><p><em>Some can gaze and not be sick,<em>

_But I could never learn the trick._

_There's this to say for blood and breath,_

_It gives a man a taste for death._

_-A.E. Housman_

_To the vanished Herbert West and to me the disgust and horror were supreme. I shudder tonight as I think of it; shudder even more than I did that morning when West muttered through his bandages, "Damn it, it wasn't _quite _fresh enough!"_

_-H.P. Lovecraft, 'Herbert West-Reanimator_

Perched atop one of the many gleaming black coffins within his shop, Undertaker stared out a window, and into the shadows surrounding his shop, contemplating the day's events. It had been a slow, boring day, as days in May often were. The whole spring season in fact, was rather boring. Not many people tended to die when Nature's full glory swung around. Of course, this was not to say he hated spring; the lovely sunshine, the mild weather, the crisp breezes, the beautiful flowers were all wonderful. However, as far as business went, he preferred winter. So many deaths, so many mutilated bodies, oh such fun! Unfortunately, he'd only had a total of four customers come in today. A slow day indeed.

A jingling sound brought him out of his reverie. Standing in the doorway, peering in with timid eyes was a young man with hair as dark and unkempt as raven feathers. When his eyes settled on the Undertaker, he cleared his throat a bit and stepped into the shop. In his arms he held the limp, lifeless body of a young woman. Her skin was marble white, and her lips had long ago lost their vibrant pink hue. Undertaker smiled. Now this was interesting. Smiling, he hopped off the coffin to greet the escort of his newest customer.

"Yes? You have need of my services I take it?" He asked, pointing to the corpse in the young man's arms. The man nodded.

"Y-Yes. P-Please, forgive me for coming at such a late hour, but we ran into various problems along the road. I'm sorry sir"

"Hm, various problems you say? Well, I'll admit, I'm honored that you came such a long way just to come to my little shop. Thank you kindly."

The dark robed mortician took the corpse from the young man, and placed her in the back room, where she would sit for the time being until the living occupant departed. He laid her down on her back, smoothing her dress down, and brushing a few stray hairs out of her face. Such a pretty girl. Shame that she wasn't torn up beyond recognition. Her arm rolled off the table and the Undertaker reset it beside her body. He wondered how long she had been dead if she was still rag-doll limp.

Meanwhile, a nervous toe attempted to grind itself into the floor. The young man looked around the shop. This place was creepy. Honestly, why had his friend told him to come here of all places? There were plenty of funeral parlors in Chelmsford. Naturally though, they had wanted the arrangements for the body to take place somewhere were they wouldn't be recognized.

The sound of joyous humming caught the young man's attention as the Undertaker re-entered the room, smiling. He was really starting to wish he'd gone against his friend's wishes and went to a funeral parlor in Chelmsford. This guy was just plain freaky.

Hidden eyes scrutinized the human male before him. Just out of the adolescent stage, this poor lad was having a hard time keeping his cool standing in Undertaker's humble little shop. Undertaker's usual smile widened into a sardonic grin. Humans were quite entertaining!

"Alright lad, she's all set up in the back. Now, how would you like to go about getting her buried? Something extravagant or not so much?" He asked, inwardly enjoying watching the kid squirm.

The young man jumped, almost as if he had not been expecting the question.

"Oh, y-yes. Erm…just a simple coffin is fine, nothing fancy. A pinewood coffin should do."

"Oh, I don't know about that. Pine rots awful easy you know."

"Then cedar shall be fine sir."

A long black claw jabbed up at the ceiling. "Ah! Now that's a good choice lad! Alright then, one cedar coffin for a pretty young miss coming up! Say, by the way…"

His grin widened even more. "This woman, she isn't related to you is she?"

Like symmetrical inkblots dabbed onto a dry piece of paper, his pupils grew rapidly in size, leaving only a ring of iris in each eye. He stared at Undertaker, mouth agape. Once he realized what implications his actions may have, he shut his mouth and uttered a hasty response.

"N-No sir, she was one of our patients at the hospital in Chelmsford. She was a foreigner, and had no family to claim her body. My colleague thought it a disgrace to our town, lumping in a nobody with the good people of Chelmsford, so he ordered me to bring her here, to have her buried in London."

"I see. Well, if someone's looking for anonymity, then London certainly is the place to come! But, don't go thinking that I'll take any random Jack off the street, I'm not that desperate for coin after all." He remarked, chuckling in that eerie, snake-like way. The young man suppressed a powerful shiver. Outside, the bell tolled the tenth hour, and the Undertaker just had to snicker when the poor fellow about jumped out of his skin. When his heart-rate was back under control, the young man wiped his brow, and nodded his head to the Undertaker.

"Once again, I would like to thank you for taking care of this for us. My colleague wished me to give you his utmost thanks."

"Yes, you keep bringing him up. There a specific reason he couldn't make it?"

"Erm…well, my colleague runs the hospital in Chelmsford, and therefore is incredibly busy all of the time, so I am the one who gets stuck with things like this. Plus, I'm the only one he would trust with such a daring task."

The two men stood in silence for a moment, then the man turned on his heel.

"Well, I suppose I should be going, the hour is late after all."

Wasn't this guy forgetting a little something called, le Bill? Although his eyes were not visible the Undertaker dropped his smile the tiniest margin. Sensing the mortician's disapproval, the other man turned back around, a sad attempt at a sheepish smile haphazardly slopped onto his face.

"That's right, I do believe I'm forgetting something. I…I have the payment for you," He began rummaging through various coat pockets until he came to one sewn on the inside. A tiny bit of pride bled into his frame, for he puffed up the slightest bit, "My friend is always chastising me on my overly cautious nature, but when those bandits attacked the carriage and attempted to steal something of monetary value, they never bothered to check the inside of my coat. Heh, guess it pays to be careful."

Undertaker let his grin return in full, "Literally.

* * *

><p>Later, the man stepped back out into the alleyway and shut the door behind him, leaning against it, lest his knees betrayed him. <em>That <em>had been an ordeal. He sighed. At least the body was out of his hands and soiling someone else's grip now. It turned out that his friend had been right for a change. Of course it made sense; the big city of London had many things to hide, among them strange occurrences, and who was that creepy mortician going to tell anyway? What could he possibly gain? No, they had covered their tracks.

"Well? How did it go?"

For the second time that night, the poor man nearly had a heart attack. After taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, he rounded on his friend.

"Honestly West, don't scare me like that!" He hissed at the intruder a few feet to his left. Now that he was out of the shop, he dropped his fake British accent.

"Don't call me that!" West replied, glancing around for any random passerby. "I told you, while we are here in England, I am known as Dr. Richard Fielding, do you understand?"

Worn out from the frightening momentary stay in the Undertaker's parlor, and not wanting to get into an argument with his dear friend, the man nodded. Above the wide brim of the upturned jacket collar, West smiled.

"Good, we've gotten that body out of our hands," West sighed and kicked the ground, "why does nearly every thing I do have to end in failure? Not once has anything I've done so far yielded the proper results!"

A reassuring hand laid itself on West's shoulder. West turned to see his friend giving him an endearing smile.

"Well, it's like you've always said yourself, the only thing you can do now is keep trying. You never give up, even in the face of total defeat. It's one of your redeeming qualities my friend." He said West smiled back at his friend.

"Thank you, very much. You have no idea how much your compliment pleases me. Now," West shrugged off the hand and walked out of the alley, "the carriage is located near the pub that is just up the street from this alleyway entrance. Come, let's make our way back to Chelmsford.

The man nodded, but hung back a bit, watching West as he strode away. Yes, West never gave up, not even if all hope seemed lost. A redeeming quality indeed, but this time, it would bring the bright, young doctor absolute ruin.

* * *

><p>Normally he never left his shop much, but there was just something about a peaceful spring night that just begged to be wandered around in. The streets were quiet, undisturbed, and the moon hung in the sky, bright and full. Glimmering full of the night's wonder and promise. Stars twinkled with their usual mirth as they winked at the semi-sleeping city below. A cool breeze stirred the leaves on the trees fringing the city shrouded in fog. Oh yes, what a perfect night. So very quiet, so very tranquil.<p>

Undertaker smiled as he strode through the streets. Nights like this were perfect for reflection, or just concentrating on the present. The white-haired ex-shinigami opted for the latter of the two, for truly, it was such a beautiful night, who would want to waste it all by dwelling on the past? The woman who had been brought in earlier was shut away nice and tight in a coffin in the back of his shop. No worries there. Naturally, there had been no need to lock up for what did he have that any would-be robber would want to steal? The famous body snatchers, Burke and Hare had been condemned to death around seventy years ago, and even if they had still been among the living, the two men were famous for murdering rather than grave-robbing. Nope, Undertaker had nothing either on him or in his shop worth pilfering.

Crows flew beneath the moon's iridescence, silhouetting themselves against the glow, calling to each other in the alien voice of nature's night. Somewhere, a cat could be heard singing a mournful song atop a fence. In the fuzzy light of the streetlamps, insects whirred about, head butting the glass again and again in a desperate attempt to reach the light within. Undertaker smiled; the night was indeed a gorgeous thing.

Just then, a simultaneous mixture of crashing and banging sounded from the way he had come. For a moment, he stood there, trying to figure out where the sound had come from. Hang on, didn't that sound like it was coming from…

"Oh hell."

Hastily, he beat it back to his shop. Talk about a sight.

The door had been flung open, but luckily none of the hinges appeared to be broken. Inside, the myriad of coffins that had been sitting on the floor had been torn apart, and many of them lay broken against the walls. In the back it was worse. The coffin, the very one he had placed his newest arrival in only an hour or so ago, was broken beyond all repair. The lid looked as if a wild animal had lain into it. As for the coffin itself, the sides were split and part of the bottom had just snapped off. Undertaker just stood there, surveying all the damage and trying to force down the anger that was steadily rising. Perhaps locking up would have been a good idea after all. After a minute or two, he sighed and resigned himself to cleaning up the mess, or rather making order out of the chaos that his shop had now become. While he picked up the broken pieces of coffin, he kept shaking his head and muttering;

"I can't believe that someone would have the nerve to come in here and steal one of _my _customers. Really now."

And as the night wore on, if someone living in the city happened to look out their window, they would have seen a shadowy figure with an unsteady gait shuffling down the street. Almost as if they carried a great burden with them as they walked.

* * *

><p>"A mutilated corpse was found? Where?"<p>

The question came from a young noble sitting behind a desk drinking a cup of Darjeeling. His butler placed a newspaper before him.

"Here, read this my lord," his butler responded, "I think it will tell you everything you want to know."

On the front of the paper, bold letters screamed out the title, beneath that, was the disturbing article. Interested, Ciel Phantomhive began to read.

**Mutilated Body Found Near Westminster Abbey!**

_Could Jack the Ripper's Ghost have Come Back?_

Earlier this morning, at approximately 5 a.m., a local Constable discovered the body of what could barely be described as a young man lying face up, dead and torn apart beneath the neck-line.

"It was horrible," the Constable remarked, "I've never seen anything this bad. The person who did this makes Jack the Ripper appear benign."

After the body was discovered, Scotland Yard was contacted. Unfortunately, Sir Arthur refused to be questioned until he had "further evidence that will lead us to the killer". The body was removed from the scene immediately, but has yet to be identified. Although his face is clear of any obvious signs of mutilation, it is covered with many long scratches. Police and Scotland Yard assume that since there is nothing to identify this man with, that he may have been a homeless beggar.

"That is what we think, but it's hard to tell underneath all that blood." Says investigator Fred Aberline, shaking his head at the sudden chaos birthed by moonlight.

No major evidence has been found. All the people of London can hope is that the body found is nothing more than the victim of some wild animal attack, although it seems unlikely.

Ciel put the newspaper down on his desk and sighed. There seemed to be no rest for the weary. Nearby, Sebastian smiled.

"Is there something troubling you, young master?"

"No, but I think that you and I will be making a little trip into town today."

The smile widened into the famous smirk as Sebastian produced an envelope, bearing an all too-familiar seal.

"I think someone is way ahead of you, my lord."

He stared at the envelope in his butler's hand. Of course he would be the one called upon by the queen. After all, Scotland Yard had so far been proving itself to be rather useless. Smirking, Ciel leaned back in his chair.

"It seems there really is no rest for the weary."

"No rest for the wicked either."

He had to admit a certain truth to that.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm sorry to leave it on such a short note. I normally never do that. At any rate, tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is indeed appreciated.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello readers! Welcome to chapter two of Rolling in the Grave. A thank you to Empress Saix for reviewing the first chapter.**

**Author's note: I forgot to mention this, but this is crossed over with H.P. Lovecraft's **_**Herbert West-Reanimator, **_**hence the appearance of Dr. Herbert West.**

**Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji is not mine, and never will be. Now, onto the story.**

* * *

><p>Carriages whirred past, wheels bumbling over the uneven cobbles paving the streets of London. People milled about the streets, going in and out of shops and gossiping with friends. Early afternoon sunlight streamed down, bouncing off windows and reflecting its saffron brilliance into the throng of the capital's citizenry. However, in a back alley near Westminster Abbey, the sunlight had a harder time breaking through the somber mood that surrounded the Scotland Yard investigators on the scene. Aberline kneeled on the ground, inspecting a bit of broken cobble, searching for a hair, a scrap of clothing, <em>something <em>that could be used as viable evidence. No luck. The only thing in that cracked mess _was _a cracked mess.

"Anything yet, Aberline?" Sir Arthur inquired, peering over his subordinate's shoulder. Aberline stood up and turned, shaking his head.

"No sir, I'm very sorry. We've scoured this area all we could, and haven't turned up a thing."

"Well keep searching we don't want-"

"Well hello there Sir Arthur. My, it seems your investigation is dragging a bit. Mind if I help?" asked the voice of Ciel Phantomhive from the alley's entrance. Sir Arthur sighed.

"…him getting involved." Sir Arthur muttered under his breath before turning to the young noble.

"We are in no need of your services, Phantomhive. Scotland Yard can handle this case without any help on your part."

Ciel smirked, and from his coat, produced an envelope with the queen's trademark seal.

"It seems someone thinks otherwise." he remarked, blue eye glinting with mirth as he observed the man before him grit his teeth in barely suppressed rage. Sir Arthur opened his mouth for a retort, but Ciel beat him to it.

"And if you wish to argue this matter, all I have to do is bring the Jack the Ripper case to the table. I'm sure you remember that one; don't you, Sir Arthur?"

They faced off. Aberline was reminded of two male wolves in a pack, both always vying for dominance. Sebastian was amused. He knew who the dominant wolf was, but watching Sir Arthur try had its entertaining qualities. Tired of dealing with Ciel, Arthur turned around and walked over to a group of investigators standing a few feet off, leaving Aberline to confront the young Earl. How very dutiful of him, Ciel noted. Aberline sighed and shook his head. Arthur Woodsmith was a complicated and easily angered man by nature, but when in the presence of Ciel Phantomhive, the man became too difficult of an egg to even scratch, let alone crack.

"I'm sorry Ciel," Aberline said, shrugging his shoulders, "but we haven't found anything. I wish we had though." Aberline shuddered. "Honestly Ciel, if you thought Jack the Ripper as awful…" he trailed off. Ciel remained silent. He wondered how Aberline would react if he knew who Jack the Ripper had really been. For now, he put that out of his mind and focused on the business at hand.

"The body. How was it disposed of?" Ciel inquired.

"How do you think?" Aberline replied, "we left it with that lunatic of an Undertaker of course. Speaking of which, I noticed something odd when we dropped off the body."

"Odd? What do you mean?" Sebastian asked. Everything about the Undertaker was odd, but the way Aberline said it, the inspector was hinting at something more. Aberline shook his head once more, in an attempt to dispel the confusion more than anything.

"Well, it's just strange. It was early morning when we delivered the body, and you'd think most people would be asleep. I mean, I know that man's not like most people, but to me it seemed as if he hadn't been asleep the entire night. In fact, when we walked in, he was cleaning up quite a horrid mess if I recall correctly."

A horrid mess? What on earth did _that _mean? Aside from the fact that he was always given tea in a beaker (which annoyed Ciel to no end. The man could at least afford a decent tea set for when the Earl of Phantomhive came knocking) , his shop was always immaculate. There was not even a speck of dust on the floor to speak of, and Ciel doubted that the Undertaker would be the type to randomly throw parties. Especially in the dead of night. Aberline looked back over his shoulder at Sir Arthur while Ciel and Sebastian exchanged looks. As Aberline walked back to converse with Sir Arthur, Sebastian looked down at his master.

"Well? What shall we do now my lord?"

"We go see the Undertaker, of course." Ciel responded, glancing back at the inspectors of Scotland Yard before moving on. Sebastian nodded and followed his master out of the shadow-gray alley into the rational light of day. As they walked the packed streets of London, Sebastian could hear the strings of gossip that were being woven throughout the people of London. This morning's murder was all everybody could talk about.

"Did you read what they said about the state of the corpse?" One woman asked her sister while they purchased fruits from the market, "Awful…I feel for the constable that discovered the poor man."

"Everyone's been shaken by this." Remarked a tailor, taking a break outside of his shop.

"Is that all we harbor anymore are madmen?" Questioned a street vendor of his customer, who shook her head gravely, and responded with, "I don't know, but I am indeed frightened by this."

_And yet, as they turn away from the conversation, they plaster smiles back onto their faces as they continue on about their daily lives. However, the moment the sun begins to dip toward the horizon., doors will be locked, and all the windows shall be fastened shut. The only thing they can do now is wait for the paranoia to grab hold of them. _Sebastian thought, glancing from citizen to citizen as he and Ciel traversed the cobbled streets of the capital. Soon, he and Ciel found themselves outside of the familiar gloomy shop. Ciel glanced through the windows, but his eyes failed to pierce the gloom on the other side of the glass. He nodded to Sebastian, who opened the door for his young master. Ciel strode in, leaving the rational light of day behind.

Inside the shop, nothing appeared to be out of order. On the surface at least. As Ciel looked closer at the shop's interior, he could see that some of the coffins had been moved. In fact, the coffin that usually sat on end at the back of the shop was gone, revealing a lighter spot of wall behind it. The curtain beside the left window had a slight rip in it. And for that matter, where was the Undertaker? Ciel glanced back at the door, feeling something else out of place. The bell just above the door was missing. No wonder he wasn't aware of their arrival. The young Phantomhive peered at the shadows around him.

"Undertaker! I know you're here!"

"Well, if it isn't Earl Phantomhive, so nice to see you." Replied the eerie voice of the dark-robed mortician from behind a maroon curtain. The fabric fluttered back to reveal the Phantomhive underground informant. Other than looking harried, he seemed to be rather normal. Ciel narrowed his eyes.

"What on Earth are you doing back there?"

"On nothing much," Undertaker responded, waving a hand, "just finishing cleaning up is all."

"Yes, Inspector Aberline told us you were doing that earlier this morning. Much earlier, might I add." Sebastian remarked, smiling.

"Ah, so you came across the inspector did you? Quite an amusing fellow that one."

"Enough with the chatter!" Ciel snarled, slamming his hands down on a coffin, that to his surprise, groaned a bit under his meager assault. He lifted his hands and stared at the coffin,

"Ah yes, do be careful, my lord. I had to work quite hard on patching up these coffins this morning."

Ciel huffed. "I suppose that would have to do with the 'horrid mess' that Aberline described earlier. At any rate, I want to know more information about the body that was brought in to you at around two to three a.m.."

For a minute, the Undertaker remained silent. Ciel wasn't sure if the man had heard him. Only when that serpentine laughed slithered out into the still air of the room did Ciel know his demand had been acknowledged.

"I'll tell you all you want to know, on one condition-"

"Very well, Sebastian, if you would-mph!" The statement was cut short by a pale hand slapping itself over the Earl of Phantomhive's mouth.

"Nope, sorry my lord, but laughter isn't what I'm after this time." Undertaker said, removing his hand. Ciel glared at him.

"Then what do you want?"

The Undertaker let out a sad, whimsical sigh. He turned from Ciel, and swept his hands on either side of him. His eyes roamed about his humble shop, hidden by silver bangs.

"One of my customers was kidnapped last night. Such a pretty young girl, brought in from Chelmsford, I miss her terribly." He whipped around and jabbed a black-clawed digit at Ciel. "I'd like for you to hunt down the thief. In return, I'll tell you everything you want to know."

"You've got to be joking."

"Not so, my lord. They're also responsible for this mess right here in my shop. Seems a bit rude, don't you think?"

Ciel stared at Undertaker. He really didn't want to do the man any favors, but on the other hand, he needed information about the ripped up corpse that had been delivered to the Undertaker. He sighed. There was no way out of this.

"Alright, fine. But in return, I expect you to tell me everything you know. Any and all details that might lead us to the disgusting culprit of this murder."

The Undertaker smiled. "So good of you to see things my way, my lord."

Near the door, Sebastian stayed quiet, watching both his master and the mortician.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean you don't think it was human?" Ciel raged, clenching his fists. The Undertaker smiled back, shrugging his shoulders.<p>

"Exactly what I said. A human would have a hard time tearing apart another person like that without making a ruckus."

"But Jack the Ripper-"

"Was a tag-team consisting of a human and a _grim reaper._" Undertaker pointed out, raising his beaker of tea and taking a small sip. Ciel ground his teeth in agitation.

"So you suspect it was some kind of animal then?" Sebastian inquired. To the surprise of both of them Undertaker shook his head. The two men and one boy in the funeral parlor remained silent, each turning a solution over in his mind. Finally, Sebastian and Ciel looked at each other. Sebastian's russet colored eyes bored into the silver curtain hiding the Undertaker's eyes.

"So what are you trying to say?"

Undertaker set down his tea beaker before responding. He leaned back and propped a leg up on the coffin he was sitting on. His left hand sought out a bone-shaped cookie, the end of which was popped into his mouth. He sat there for a moment, grinning in silence. After a moment, he tapped his right forefinger on the coffin lid and began to speak.

"Think about this: if you brutally slaughtered someone my lord, would you just leave them lying in the street?" Ciel opened his mouth to interject, but Undertaker cut him off. "And before you try to argue the Jack the Ripper case, remember the people behind it. You can hardly classify that as a normal everyday murder when you take in to account the suspects, can you my lord?"

Ciel fixed the mortician with a glare of blue fire. Undertaker smirked and continued.

"On the other hand, if it was an animal, it would have eaten parts of the corpse, would you not agree? However, aside from being scratched up, not a single piece of flesh is missing. Pretty strange wouldn't you say?"

"Perhaps the killer was just a fool and wouldn't think the authorities would be sent after him." Ciel said. Undertaker chuckled. From that alone, Ciel knew he had just unlocked a secret that the Undertaker had been hiding. That said, the man in question hopped off the coffin and came to stand beside the young Earl of Phantomhive.

"My lord, do you remember the Jack the Ripper victims?"

"What does that have to do with anything? And I thought you were the one who said to stop bringing it up because they were two different things."

"Yes they do have their differences. Especially when it comes to one certain aspect."

Sebastian quirked an eyebrow. "And what aspect might that be?"

"Why, it's actually quite simple. Whenever a customer is delivered to my shop, I'm almost always able to accurately guess at what tool they might have used. With Jack the Ripper, I could tell that there were two objects. The object used for the excising of the organs and cutting the throats was a tool used for accuracy, small and very sharp. However, the one used to tear apart the body was much bigger, and designed solely for the use of tearing apart flesh."

"But what does that have to do with this murder? I doubt someone with a knife could cause that much damage. And Grell's been demoted to using scissors. Even if he could break free of Will's constant monitoring, he wouldn't dare raise his death scythe against another human." Sebastian said. His remark was met with a sharp grin courtesy of the silver-haired ex-reaper.

"That's just the point. The weapon used in this? The murderer did it with their own bare hands. Those lacerations all over the body were made by very sharp nails."

Ciel stared at the Undertaker. What was he trying to say? He said that the culprit wasn't human or animal. Grell had been ruled out as well. Did that mean… Impossible! Ciel placed his beaker down, snatched his hat from the top of the coffin, and stood up. This got both his butler's and the Undertaker's attention. Ciel glared at Undertaker.

"I have no idea why you think what you've just given me would be useful, but I'm in good spirits today, so I'll still perform your favor in light of your useless information." He turned on his heel and strode towards the door. "Good day Undertaker."

"All the same my lord, think on what I've told you. It might not be so useless in the near future." The Undertaker called out. Ciel stopped, but kept moving once the mortician had finished speaking. Sunlight made a stabbing move at the young Earl's eye as he exited the dark funeral parlor. Ciel shielded his eyes and kept walking. Sebastian trailed behind his master, observing the odd countenance the boy before him wore. Why had Ciel decided to leave sp abruptly after Undertaker's reveal of that the murderer had torn his victims apart with his bare hands? An absence of footfalls in front of him hitting pavement caused Sebastian to halt, snapping out of his reverie. He looked down at his master. Ciel's shoulders were slightly slumped, his head bowed a fraction. The aura around him had deepened a bit.

"Master, pardon my asking, but what seems to be ailing you?"

Ciel did not turn. "Sebastian…"

"Yes?"

"As per the rules of our contract, you are bound to me for as long as I may live. In doing that, you have sworn to me that you never lie. However, you withheld information about Grell during the Jack the Ripper case. You knew something was amiss and didn't inform me." At this, Ciel whipped around, and stabbed a finger in his servant's direction. "This is an order Sebastian, tell me everything you know; even if it's a suspicion. Was this…was this done by a demon? Are there more than just you running around?"

For a long time, Sebastian stared back at Ciel. Master and servant. Russet locked on sapphire. The intensity in Ciel's unwavering gaze broke when his butler kneeled before him.

"I apologize my lord, but I know nothing. I am just as clueless as you are at this point."

Ciel was not sure whether to slap his servant because he knew nothing, or breathe a sigh of relief because Sebastian was telling the truth. Instead, he chose to do neither. He let the frozen mask of anger slip back over his face as he narrowed his eyes at his most trusted pawn.

"You didn't answer my other question: Are there any more demons besides you out roaming London? Free to do whatever they please? Surely you can sense their presence."

Sebastian looked up at Ciel and smiled,

"While I'll admit that, yes, there are other demons besides me out, enjoying their time amongst humans, I doubt one was behind the murder of that man. As for roaming London specifically, I have no idea."

Ciel sighed. "Aberline, the Undertaker, and you. I doubt there is a single person who can provide me with any useful information."

Sebastian stood up. The classic smirk woven onto his fact as he bowed his head and placed his hand over his chest.

"We should e heading home now sir. I will start preparing some tea as soon as we get back."

"Very well." Ciel replied, turning on his heel, and walking back in the direction of their parked carriage. Sebastian's voice yanked him to a stop.

""One more thing, my lord: the information the Undertaker gave you might not be so useless after all. It may help to keep in mind the location from where the stolen body came."

Ciel whirled around. Something about the location did indeed seem important, but what did it mean? He put a bent finger to his chin as he mulled it over. Sebastian smiled.

"I'm sure you can heave plenty to think about once your back in your study. Shall we go, sir?"

"At once." Ciel responded. He and Sebastian resumed their walk down the crowded streets of early morning London. Chelmsford, Chelmsford; what was it about that place that held a certain resonance within Ciel's mind? The Phantomhive heir sighed;. One way or another, he'd come to know soon enough. Meanwhile, Sebastian strode behind him like a three-dimensional shadow. In his mind there was no doubt, strange things were indeed afoot. As to what they were exactly… His famous smirk inched its way across the bottom of his face. Something deep within him predicted this was going to be a fun little adventure.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry it's been so long. Dr. West makes an appearance in the next chapter, and so does our lovely walking corpse<strong>


End file.
